


Hyde's Secret

by MistyMountainHop



Category: That '70s Show
Genre: Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyMountainHop/pseuds/MistyMountainHop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas is fast approaching, and Hyde can't shake the kiss he shared with Jackie on Veteran's Day. Mrs. Forman is throwing a Christmas Eve party, and she insists everyone participate in Secret Santa. Hyde pulls the wrong name from the hat. Subversion is his plan, but then he finds something in the woods that changes everything. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hyde's Secret

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** _That '70s Show_ copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.
> 
>  **Author's Note:** My Christmas gift to everyone who reads my work (comics and fanfic both). Thank you!

 

 

**HYDE'S SECRET**

_December 3_ _, 1977_

 _Bud's Bathroom_  
**...**

Jackie's kiss remained on Hyde's lips like a bruise. Fourteen days, and the pressure hadn't left his mouth. He spat a glob of toothpaste into Bud's sink, but brushing his teeth didn't help. Neither did the brawl at his dad's bar. Last week, he'd provoked a biker and gotten a black eye. Bud saved his ass but gave him a five-day sentence, a minor-league grounding.

The skin around Hyde's eye was almost back to normal. A sickly yellow color had taken over, replacing the badass purple. The medicine cabinet was stocked with aspirin, one of Bud's rare fatherly acts. The grounding had been another. Hyde's lack of explanation for the bar fight had earned him two extra days, but how could he explain the inexplicable?

Jackie. She'd done the impossible, broken him open, and he was desperate to shut himself down again.

Talking about "his feelings,"as Bud suggested, wouldn't help. Fortunately, Bud was working late tonight. A usual Sunday. Hyde was showered and shaved and ready to head to the Formans'.

He arrived in time for dinner. Mrs. Forman's famous meatballs and cranberry sauce were on the menu, a traditional Swedish dish from her grandmother. "It should be loganberry jam," Mrs. Forman said while serving, "but Red hates loganberry jam, so I—"

Forman snickered beside Hyde, and Mrs. Forman pointed the serving spoon at him. "Is there something funny about switching out loganberry jam for cranberry sauce?"

"No," Forman said, but he continued to snicker.

"Out with it," Red said.

"Oh, it's nothing." Forman flicked his eyes toward the ceiling, as if he were in reverie. "I just can't believe it happened."

Red and Hyde both glowered at him, but Mrs. Forman said, "Come on, honey. We all like to laugh, too. What happened?"

Forman stifled his snickers. "Mr. Burkhart ran over Jackie's cat."

"With the Lincoln?" Hyde said. He should've acted disinterested, but his lips were compromised. They had no will to hold back his words.

"He was backing out of the Burkharts' garage." Forman raised a meatball then dropped it onto his plate. It splashed cranberry sauce onto the table. "Splat! Just like that. Guess I'm not the only cat-killer in Point Place."

He broke into laughter, and Red laughed, too, but one look from Mrs. Forman shut him up. "That isn't funny at all," she said. "That's awful! The poor girl!"

"Oh, she was miserable today, crying over at Donna's." Forman was less visibly amused, but a few laughs straggled out. "Cut into my make-out time—"

"Shut it," Red said. "I don't want to think about the Burkharts' dead cat—or what you like to do with the neighbor-girl—while I'm eating."

The table devolved into a cacophony of silverware scraping on dishware. Hyde had few feelings about Jackie's dead cat, but cats were all right with him. He appreciated their independence. Earning their trust went the same as earning Hyde's: slowly and carefully.

"All right, I know how to cheer up this table!" Mrs. Forman said. The plates were clean of food, and she clapped her hands. Then she pulled out one of Red's hats.

"Is that my Stetson?" Red said.

"Yes, now shush." She held the hat upside-down. "I've already invited the Pinciottis, Jackie, Michael, Fez—"

Red's brow furrowed. "Who?"

"Boy with the accent. Steals bacon from our fridge."

"Damn it, Kitty. I told you never to let him inside this house."

She smiled, as if Red hadn't spoken, and held the hat high above her head. "Steven, I also invited your father. They've all accepted. We're having a Christmas Eve party! Yay!"

"A _what-what_ party?" Hyde said.

"A Christmas Eve party, and we're doing Secret Santa! Everyone but the four of us have chosen."

"Chosen what?" Red said, and she lowered the hat to him.

"The people we're buying a gift for. Those names are in this hat."

"Kitty, I don't want to—"

"Pull a name out, or you won't be the only Grinch in this house."

Red sighed but plucked a piece of paper from the hat. He read the name on it and cursed.

Mrs. Forman held the hat to Forman next, and Forman took out a name. He didn't seem fazed one way or the other.

Next was Hyde's turn, but he said, "Mrs. Forman, I was thinkin' of skipping the holiday. You know, holing up in the, uh ... _library._ Doin' some reading."

"Nonsense. You're family, and you're spending it with us. Now choose."

Hyde shoved his hand into the hat. Only two names were left. He swirled the folded-up papers around then yanked one out. He unfolded the paper, and six letters drop-kicked his heart to his stomach: JACKIE.

"Forman," Hyde whispered, "trade ya."

"No way. Who'd you get?"

"Never mind. Red?"

"Sure." Red reached across the kitchen table, but Mrs. Forman slapped his hand.

"No trading," she said, "and no revealing to anyone else whose name you got. This is supposed to be fun! Now, all that's required is buying a present for your person, wrapping it, and putting it under our Christmas tree. But feel free to give your person mini-surprises along the way. Build up the mystery."

"My person'll be lucky to not to receive a mystery kick up the ass," Red said.

Forman leaned in close to Hyde and whispered, "Well, that narrows his person down to me, Kelso, Bob, Bud, or Fez."

"If I had you, man," Hyde said, "I'd get you a pair of pillows to strap to your ass, just in case."

"Thanks."

Mrs. Forman clapped her hands again, this time not happily. "Stop talking about it! Or I won't cook for the party. We'll get take-out from that new Chinese Restaurant that opened in Kenosha, and Red, you'll have to drive there to pick it up."

"Yes, ma'am," everyone said and crumpled their pieces of paper.

* * *

"So, who'd ya get?" Kelso said.

Everyone had gathered in the basement after dinner. Everyone but Jackie. Hyde had no desire to see her. If he were lucky, he'd never see her again. But the Christmas Eve party—and this damn Secret Santa crap—was against him.

"I was hopin' to get Jackie," Kelso continued, but I got—"

"Shut up, dink," Donna said. "It's called 'Secret Santa' for a reason." She was sitting next to Forman on the ratty couch, and her hand played with the cuff of his sleeve. But her fingers grew smaller in Hyde's mind, and her bitten-down nails shined up into manicured-fineness. The sleeve they fiddled became Hyde's wrist— _crap._

He needed a freakin' drink. Or a joint. Twice he'd fallen for a friend's girl. Twice, the girl didn't want him. _Screw 'em and leave 'em_ had been his policy, and it had to stay his policy. Caring for someone else, being cared for ... the risk wasn't worth the reward.

"Damn your Amedican rules!" Fez shouted. He sat in the lawn chair, arms crossed over his chest, and frowned. "I need help! The only thing I know about my person is that he used to get drunk but doesn't get drunk anymore. Oh, and that he prefers ladies with tight asses."

"Hell, you got Bud?" Hyde said. "Cool. Trade me." He held out his rumpled paper with Jackie's name on it.

"No. I will honor Miss Kitty by being your father's Secret Santa, but tell me what to get him."

Hyde scratched the back of his neck. He didn't know his own dad well enough to give Fez any advice. Hyde had been living with the guy only a few months. "Uh ... some money to help pay the rent would work. 'Course, if you give it to him, he'll just gamble it away. So ... I got it! Get him a pair of loaded dice."

"Your dad's gambling?" Forman said.

Hyde nodded. "Better than drinking. And he made last month's rent with one bet. Too bad he lost it with a second bet."

"Hyde," Forman said.

Hyde waved dismissively at him. Bud was Hyde's problem, not Forman's—or _the_ _Formans'_. He'd handle it. He made enough dough from the Fotohut to cover most of the rent. So whatever Jackie was getting from him this Christmas would be worth nothing. Because that was what he felt about her.

_Nada._

* * *

The Fotohut's shelves were stocked with cameras, film, and flashbulbs. Other shelves had empty picture frames and albums. Hyde's after-school shift had ended. He used to work only on weekends when he stayed at the Formans', but now he had to earn living expenses. His grades were slipping past his hard-earned B-average. Food and shelter had become top priority, not writing English essays.

"Hey, Leo, man," he said, "could I have this?" He was holding the cheapest, flimsiest picture frame the Fotohut sold.

"Sure, man. Careful, though. That thing cuts flesh."

Hyde ran his thumb along the frame's plastic edge. It sliced his skin. "Perfect."

"What do you want it for?"

"Lame Secret Santa," Hyde said and stuck his bleeding thumb into his mouth. "Got any Band-Aids?"

Leo rummaged in his pockets. He pulled out two wadded-up tissues, five joints, and several, battered-looking Band-Aids still in their wrapping. "I hate paper cuts, man."

Hyde took a Band-Aid and applied it to his thumb. "I gotta give freakin' Jackie something for Christmas."

"Who?"

"Loud Girl."

"Oh, yeah. She loves you."

"No, she was usin' me to get over Kelso," Hyde snatched one of Leo's joints. "Mind if I take this, too?"

" _Mi casa es su casa._ Whoa, I know Spanish!"

"Not really, man. You just said, 'My house is your house.' Not, 'My stash is your stash.'"

"But you don't live in a house, man. You live in an apartment."

Hyde smiled and patted Leo's shoulder. "Yeah."

* * *

Hyde carried Jackie's unwrapped picture frame in his backpack. The walk home from the Fotohut was a good half-hour. Having a car would've been nice, but he couldn't afford one, and unlike Forman, he had no parents to pass one down to him. The December night was dark and chilly, but Hyde knew the streets well. He didn't take his normal route to Sherman Avenue. Instead, he took a left onto Ashby Lane.

The alleyway was long and smelled like old feet, but it led to the Water Tower. This shortcut would take him forty minutes to walk. He needed a place for a private circle. Bud hated when he smoked up in the apartment, so usually he held the circle at Forman's. But Jackie could be in the basement tonight. He had no wish to relieve Veteran's Day again, memories of how her tongue had coaxed more than just a hard-on out of him.

Pavement turned to dirt at his boots, and trees replaced buildings. He'd gotten to the woods. The Water Tower rose high above him, and he stepped through some bushes, but something mewed below in the leaves. It mewed again, and a pair of blue eyes flashed at him—damn it. A rabid animal was hunkered by his leg. If he moved too jarringly, the thing could bite him.

"Hey," he said. "I'm just passing through, okay? Don't want your territory."

He took a half-step out of the woods, and the animal made a ragged sound, like a muffled motor revving.

"Shit. Tell me you're not a—"

"Mrow!"

Hyde bent down and spotted it in the bushes, a kitten. It was a bundle of matted fur and dirt. He picked it up with one hand and said, "You're freakin' tiny."

But the furry thing's heart beat strongly against his palm, and its blue eyes were clear. He couldn't tell what color the fur was, though, because of all the dirt covering it.

"Where's your ma?" he said. The kitten replied by purring, and he cradled it in his arm. The kitten's belly was a mess of dirt, too. "We gotta find her."

The night was cold, and it would only get colder. Hyde searched the woods for another cat, but he found nothing but a few squirrels. Maybe someone had abandoned the kitten here—or a host of kittens, its siblings. And this was the only one that survived.

He kept the kitten in the crook of his arm. The little thing didn't seem to mind. In fact, it was purring insistently, and its tiny paws stretched up to touch Hyde's chin.

"Damn it! Can't leave you here." He'd been abandoned himself, after all, and the Formans had taken him in … and then his dad came back. Maybe this kitten had a gambling addict, recovering alcoholic for a father, too.

* * *

Hyde brought the kitten to the Formans'. More specifically, to Mrs. Forman. He'd hidden the kitten in his corduroy jacket and asked Mrs. Forman to join him for a private confab.

His old room was exactly as he'd left it, minus the Sex Pistols poster he'd brought back to Bud's. He pulled the kitten from his jacket, and Mrs. Forman burst into a grin.

"Steven, is this my Secret Santa present? Did you get me as your giftee?" She cuddled the kitten in her hands, but it didn't seem as happy as it did with Hyde.

"No, I found it in the woods. Couldn't just leave it, but I got no clue what to do now."

"It needs to be taken to the vet." Mrs. Forman pulled up the kitten's lip and checked over its teeth. "It seems to have molars. It's probably weaned. I'll go to the Piggly Wiggly and pick up some cat food, and—oh! You'll need litter and a litter pan." She passed the kitten back to Hyde. "The emergency vet is an hour's drive from here, but your—" she gestured to the kitten, "what are you calling it?"

"Cat."

"That's no name for a kitten. Anyway, it seems well enough to survive the night. You should stay here with it, but don't let Red know it's here. I'll pick up supplies. You need to clean that little kitty up and provide it with water. Use a small bowl and put down some notebook paper for a temporary toilet. I'll be back from the store as soon as I can."

"But, Mrs. Forman—"

"I'll bring it to the vet first thing in the morning, 'kay?" She swept out of Hyde's old room before he could object and closed the door behind her.

"Great..." Hyde checked the room over for anything that could kill a ten-inch kitten. The kitten, meanwhile made a toy out of everything it could find: a crushed plastic cup, the tassels of the Formans' suitcases. It was a cute thing but a dirtball, kind of like him. "Okay, Cat," he said, "you gotta keep yourself entertained while I set things up."

He made a de facto litter area out of notebook paper. He also crumpled a few pieces for the kitten to play with before leaving the room. Forman was sitting in the basement, but Hyde didn't stop to answer his questions. He bolted up the stairs to the kitchen, and Red's laughter reached him from the living room. He had to be watching TV, but that wouldn't stop him from asking Hyde what the hell he was doing.

Hyde gathered supplies quickly. He returned to his old room with two bowls of water—one small and one large—and a roll of paper towels. The kitten, however, was nowhere to be seen.

"Cat?" he said and looked under his cot. The kitten was cowering next to a large dust bunny, and he softened his voice. "Hey, kitty. I got some goodies out here."

The kitten crawled out from the cot, as if attracted to something in Hyde's tone. A gray coating of dust had settled on top of the brown dirt. He grasped the kitten gently, and it began to purr. The bare bulb of the room shone in its blue eyes.

"Let's see what you really look like, huh?" He dunked a wad of paper towel into the larger bowl of water and cleaned off the kitten's face. The kitten mewed and squirmed, but Hyde was determined.

He tossed wet paper towels, brown with grime, into his waste basket. The bath had gotten him a few scratches, but it revealed the kitten's true appearance. It had cream-colored fur with orange stripes. Its eyes were outlined with orange stripes, too, and resembled a pair of shades.

Hyde held the kitten to his face. "Well, Cat, looks like we're gonna be roomies for a night."

The kitten stretched out a small paw and batted Hyde's curls.

A half-hour later, Mrs. Forman returned with an overabundance of cat provisions: five kinds of kitten food, litter supplies, a cat carrier, and more toys than Hyde knew existed for cats.

"Oh, I've always wanted a kitty," Mrs. Forman said and set everything up. The food was first, and the kitten ate like a champ. "That's a good sign. He has an appetite."

"He?"

"Yes, the kitten is a boy."

"How can you tell?"

"He has male parts, Steven—that will eventually get snipped off." She began to laugh. "It's a good thing Eric's not a cat, or Red might have insisted—" She shut herself up. "Sorry, I'm just so giddy because of this kitty!"

She spent a moment watching the kitten eat; then she gave Hyde instructions, telling him how to scoop the litter. She also emphasized he should wash his hands after each time. They didn't know if this cat was infested with worms or other parasites.

"We'll probably need a stool sample for the vet tomorrow," she said, "so leave one in the box. I'll take care of it in the morning." She stroked the kitten's back, causing its tail to straighten up. "Oh, he's just so adorable. You cleaned him up well. You know, he kind of looks—"

"Don't say it—"

"Like you!" She laughed again. "He even has a tiny pair of sunglasses around his eyes."

Hyde sighed. "Could you watch him a minute? I gotta call Bud and let him know I'm stayin' over."

"Sure, sweetie."

Hyde went into the basement, ignored Forman on the couch, and sat in his chair. He picked up the phone from the side table, but Forman interrupted his dialing by saying, "What the hell is going on? You and Mom keep running in and out of your old room. Are you two planning some kind of huge gift for me?"

"Yeah, that's it." Hyde dialed the last numbers, and Bud picked up. Other voices murmured in the background. "Dice night?" Hyde said.

"Oh, Steven!" Bud said. "Yeah, me and some locals from the bar are playing a few rounds. Where are you?"

"The Formans'. Gonna stay here tonight."

"You sure? The dice are hot. You should get in on this."

"Naw, gonna keep the rent money this month."

Bud laughed. "Okay, okay. I'm just playing my tips anyway. See you tomorrow."

"See ya." Hyde hung up the phone, and his stomach growled. He'd skipped dinner, but cat food wouldn't cut it. He went back to his old room, opened the door a crack. "Mrs. Forman?"

Mrs. Forman had a small fishing pole in her hand. She was teasing the kitten with some plastic fish on the other end. "Yes?"

"I gonna make myself a sandwich. You okay here?"

"Kitty and your kitty are purrfect!"

Hyde groaned inwardly and shut the door. Cats were fine, but bad cat jokes he couldn't stand. Bob Pinciotti could never learn Hyde had a kitten.

* * *

Hyde spent that night in his old cot, and the kitten snuggled into the crook of his neck. The sensation was different but felt nice. He'd never shared his bed before, not like this. Every few hours, he'd wake, and the kitten would be in a slightly different position. Once, he woke with the kitten's chin planted on his cheek, and the kitten was purring.

"Heh," he said and pet the kitten's soft, furry back, "you ain't bad."

* * *

Mrs. Forman took the kitten from Hyde in the morning. She was bringing him to the vet. Hyde wanted to go with her, but she insisted he go to school. "Your little friend will be here when you get back," she said.

At school, during Geometry and Spanish, all his thoughts were on the fuzzy, cream-colored thing. He'd never had a pet as a kid, and he didn't plan on having one now. Mrs. Forman would probably take the kitten off his hands, at least temporarily until she found it a home.

"Would you watch where you're going?" The voice was shrill and belonged to Jackie. He'd knocked into her by the lockers. Even in the school hallway, the kitten was occupying his thoughts.

"No," he said and continued on his way, but where the hell was he going? _History class_ … right. Four more doors down, but a small, strong fist grasped his arm.

"Listen, you," Jackie said, "just because nothing came of our date doesn't mean you have to be a jerk about it." Her brown hair was pulled back into a tight, thick braid, and her posture was just as taught. His presence made her uncomfortable. Or, maybe, it was his lack of presence.

He pressed his knuckles to his lips. That damn tingling was back, and he wanted to scrape it off. "Thought we were going back to our old thing. Y'know, ignoring each other."

"We are, but you should still watch where you're..." She reached up to his cheek, and he flinched. "Hold still. What is that?"

He ran a finger down the side of his face. A scab as thin as floss had formed over his skin. The kitten must've scratched his cheek while he slept. "Nothing."

"Fine." She turned away from him took a few steps. Then she stopped and turned back around. "I don't want us to ignore each other, Steven."

"Oh, hell."

"I'm sorry, but just because I don't have romantic feelings for you doesn't mean we can't still hang out."

"Jackie, 'hanging out' consisted of you following me around, and me trying to shake you off. You got nothing I want, and the same's true for you."

"But life is so fragile, Steven. You never know when someone you care about will vanish forever. Friendship is—"

Hyde laughed and focused on the dingy blue lockers lining the hallway. "We were never friends, man. Never will be, either. What we had was a one-way street, and I'm over it."

"Steven," she said, but he withdrew from the conversation and headed to class. Even so, her Veteran's Day kiss clung to him like sweat, and her words that night boiled inside his heart.

 _Damn,_ he hated that girl.

* * *

Hyde returned to the Formans' after school and to his old room in the basement. The kitten was curled up on his cot, which was now covered in towels, but he stood up at Hyde's arrival. Hyde scratched Cat's tiny, fuzzy face, and Cat leaned into Hyde's fingers, purring. Then Cat's tiny tail stuck up happily as Hyde petted his back.

"Yeah, I missed you, too," Hyde said, something he'd never admit aloud to a human.

A paper bag and a note were waiting for him on the bureau. The note was in Mrs. Forman's handwriting, and it said:

_Steven,_

_According to the vet, your little kitty is about seven-weeks-old. His blue eyes should turn green within another week, but that's not important. Fortunately, he had very few fleas, and they were taken care of with a flea dip. Unfortunately, the little kitty's fecal test showed he has intestinal worms. So washing your hands after each time you touch him is vitally important._

_The good news is that we got a dewormer, which you'll have to dose him with every day for—well, nine days now since he got his first dose at the vet. Then after another week, he'll have another ten-day round of dewormer. Then a week after that, his stool will have to be tested. Hopefully, he'll be worm-free by then._

_I will pay for all vet visits and medications, so don't worry. But you'll have to keep the kitty with you at your father's. Red can't find out about him. All I want in return is visitation rights._

_The dewormer is inside the paper bag. I'll drive you, the little one, and all his supplies to your father's when I get home from work._

_Love,  
Mrs. Forman_

Hyde put the note down and stared at Cat. The kitten reached up to the paper bag and batted at it. Hyde had three mandatory weeks with the little fuzzball, but then what? He couldn't kick him out on the street. He wouldn't.

* * *

The next two weeks consisted of Hyde using his lunch period to check on the kitten. Bud was cool with Cat as long as he stayed in Hyde's room, which Hyde covered in towels and old sheets. Hyde couldn't risk being infected by Cat's intestinal worms, but doing an extra load of laundry was a small price to pay.

Keeping the kitten a secret from his friends was a priority. He didn't let anyone hang out at Bud's. He'd promised to give them a tour once he moved in, but that never happened. And Hyde often skipped going to the basement to take care of Cat. Getting the kitten's hair off his black shirts was almost impossible, though, so he wore only light-colored shirts.

Despite the changes, the reward was worth the hassle. Cat entertained him while he did homework, using Hyde's pencil as a toy or gnawing on it. Cat didn't meow much, but that purr—Hyde had grown addicted to it. The sound and the rumbly feeling beneath his fingertips. He also enjoyed their nightly routine together. Cat would knead Hyde's blanket a few minutes before cuddling into his face or chest.

It was the least lonely Hyde had felt in his life.

Cat hadn't known how to jump at first. He used his tiny but sharp claws to crawl onto Hyde's bed. But when Cat's eyes turned green a week later, he learned how to leap onto every surface—Hyde's shelves, his stereo. Sometimes, Hyde found his records knocked to the floor. Somehow, Cat's tiny jaws had yanked Hyde's albums free from the shelves and tossed them. Hyde didn't mind, but one thing was clear: Cat couldn't stay confined to Hyde's room for the rest of his life.

One late weekend afternoon, Hyde's friends barged into Bud's apartment. They knocked on the front door until Hyde was forced to let them in. They piled into the living room—Forman, Donna, Kelso, and Fez—and demanded to know what the hell was wrong with him. Why had he "abandoned" the basement and the circle?

"It's temporary," Hyde said and went to the kitchen. It was an open one, attached to the living room. "We got no beer in the fridge; sorry. Bud's dry."

"So what's going on?" Forman said. "Are you working overtime or something?"

"Something like that." Hyde brought out a six-pack of Coke. He pulled a can from the plastic ring, and half his friends did the same.

Kelso, however, roamed the living room, checking it out. "These are your new digs, huh?"

Hyde pointed to the radiator by the window. "Yup. That's where Bud plays dice."

"Oh, I know why Hyde's been hiding," Fez said. "It's because of Secret Santa."

Hyde sat on the kitchen counter and drank his Coke. "Uh, no."

"Come on, Hyde, don't be shy," Donna said. "I've been getting loads of presents at school from mine." She winked at Forman.

Forman's face grew as red as his Coke can. "You have?"

"Yeah. Small things, but things I like. Wait, are you telling me it's not—"

"It's not me," Forman said.

"It's not me, either," Kelso said. "I got Bob." He wandered close to Hyde's bedroom, and Hyde leapt off the counter. He dashed in front of Kelso and grasped the doorknob.

"Room's off-limits," Hyde said.

Kelso looked at him quizzically. "Why?"

"Ooh, I know why." Fez had a lollipop in his mouth, but he pulled it out and tapped it on his lips. "He's turned his room into a shrine."

"To who?" Donna said, laughing.

"To Jackie," Fez said.

Hyde scowled. "Get outta here, man."

"Yeah," Kelso said. "We all know their 'date' fizzled, and she's busy pining over me again. As it should be."

"That's the story they both told you," Fez said. He stuck the lollipop back into his mouth, and the stick bounced while he spoke. "The story sweet Jackie told me, however, is very differe—"

Hyde shot across the living room, intending to frog Fez into silence. His sudden movement, though, seemed to be enough. Fez clammed up, but Forman said, "Oh, God, did you and Jackie do it in her car?"

"No!" Hyde said.

"Wait," Kelso stepped away from Hyde's bedroom, "you've got Guilty Mouth."

Hyde covered his lips. "What?"

"Yeah, I didn't know what it was either 'til Jackie told me," Kelso said, and he walked up to Hyde. "Remember the first time I cheated on her, by Frenching Pam Macy? After Jackie found out about that—but took me back—she always studied my mouth. She could tell whenever I'd been kissing Laurie." He poked the back of Hyde's hand. "'Michael,' Jackie'd say, 'your mouth looks guilty. Why does your mouth look guilty?' I played it off, but..." he pried Hyde's hand off his mouth, "yup. There it is."

Fez, Forman, and Donna all stared at Hyde's mouth, but Hyde had no idea what they were seeing.

"You kissed her," Donna said.

Forman grimaced. "With tongue!

Fez twirled the lollipop between his teeth. "With _lots_ of tongue."

Kelso shrieked. Then he shouted, "I hate you!" but instead of lunging at Hyde, he raced back to Hyde's bedroom door and thrust it open. "Where's the shrine, huh? You got naked pictures of her—or—or—or her panties?"

"No, you moron!" Hyde tried to shut the door, but he was too late. Cat scampered into the living room, tail up, and mewed.

"Is that..." Forman began.

"A kitten?" Donna finished.

Hyde scooped Cat into his arms and petted his tiny, cream-colored head. "Yeah."

Everyone but him exploded into laughter.

"Get bent," Hyde said and returned to his room with Cat. He closed and locked the door behind himself. Outside, his friends continued to laugh, but Cat needed to be fed.

Hyde opened a fresh can of cat food, and he watched Cat's tiny teeth and pink tongue devour the brown gunk. "Better you than me," he said, but Edna had fed him more than a few meals that looked and smelled worse.

He rejoined his friends a little while later. They all questioned him about Cat's origin except for Kelso, who said, "Did you like the kiss? Did you wanna nail her afterward?"

"I'm not answering crap," Hyde said.

Then Forman tossed him a random, "Are you Donna's Secret Santa?"

"No."

"Damn!" Forman's hands balled into fists, and he glared at Donna. "Who the hell is tempting you?"

"Guess we'll find out at the party next week," Donna said. "Hyde, are you actually gonna show up?"

"Yeah, now get outta my house."

"Technically, it's an apartment," Fez said.

"Whatever. Get out."

"What, no circle?" Forman said. "I figured, as long as we're here..."

"Circle later. Not here. Go." Hyde ushered everyone toward the front door. He needed them to leave. They knew too many of his secrets, and he had to regroup.

Everyone filed out into the hallway except for Kelso. "You can't have her, Hyde," he said. "Jackie and me may be over, but I had her first, so she's tainted now. You can't touch her ever again!"

"Didn't wanna touch her in the first place," Hyde said and shoved Kelso out the door.

The truth was, though, Hyde wished Jackie hadn't touched _him._ She'd invaded his body like the worms in Cat's intestines. But Cat would be free of them after a second round of dewormer. Where was Hyde's dewormer? What could he suck down to get Jackie out of his system?

* * *

Mrs. Forman had gone all out to decorate the living room for her party. Pine-and-berry wreathes adorned the walls, and the couch was covered in silver trimming. A huge Christmas tree was nestled in the corner, festooned with what had to be historic Forman-family ornaments.

The most festive Christmas Hyde remembered growing up was the one where "Uncle" Strangeman was tangled up in twinkling lights. He was sharing that story with Bud now, while they sat together on the Formans' carpeted stairs.

"Oh, your mother," Bud said, laughing. "At least she wasn't lonely on those Christmases. I really screwed her over, Steven."

"Yeah..."

"You, too." Bud tousled Hyde's hair, but Hyde was too old for that crap and hit him away. "I'm sorry," But said. "I hope this Christmas is better."

"So far, so okay," Hyde said.

But not for everyone, apparently. Forman and Donna were by the Christmas tree. He was foraging through the presents while Donna yelled at him to stop. Forman pulled out a small gift wrapped in shiny pink paper.

"Here it is," he said. "The gift from your Secret Santa—or, more accurately, your secret _admirer._ Finally, we'll learn who the culprit is—"

"It's from _me,_ you idiot," Jackie said. She was outfitted in a red dress that Hyde paid too much attention to. It floated over her hips but nipped in at the waist, a perfect place to put his hands and draw her in for another sanity-destroying kiss.

"You?" Forman's grip on the pink gift loosened, but Donna caught it. "Donna got a present every day at school for three weeks. You can't seriously be telling me _you_ got her all of those. Jackie, you don't give. You take."

Jackie sighed, and her eyes seemed to focus on the ceiling. They were gleaming wetly. "Look," she said, and her voice shook, "God took something very important from me a few weeks ago, okay? It was time, I guess, but ... I've just lost so much this year, and Donna's really helped me through it. She still is, and I wanted to thank her." She sighed again, as if it would dry the tears pooling in her eyes. "She's a really good friend, Eric. You're lucky to have her. So stop doubting her."

She turned to leave, but Donna drew her into an embrace. Jackie skittered away afterward, probably to cry in some private corner.

"Crap," Hyde said. He'd seen and heard everything from his vantage point on the stairs. "Listen, Bud, I gotta do something."

Bud patted Hyde's knee. "Sure thing, son."

Hyde climbed down the stairs and went to the tree. He rummaged through the presents until he found his lazily-wrapped picture frame to Jackie. As usual, he'd used newspaper. He snatched it up and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Steven?" Mrs. Forman pulled a fresh tray of sugar cookies from the oven. She was about to decorate them. "We're going to open the Secret Santa presents in a few minutes."

"Yeah, I'll be back in a sec."

He rushed down the stairs to the basement. Then he shut himself in his old room. He removed the newspaper from the picture frame carefully. He'd need to reuse it, but he cut his finger on the frame's cheap plastic again.

 _Damn it,_ he could be a passive-aggressive bastard when he wanted to. He'd hoped Jackie's hands would get sliced up, same as she'd done to his innards. But he knew now that she was tornado of confusion. The way she'd sounded upstairs, he recognized the undertone. It was chaotic pain, the same he'd experienced each time his parents had run off. Whatever hell Jackie was going through, he refused to add to it.

A few minutes later, his new gift to Jackie was wrapped firmly in the newspaper. But instead of putting it beneath the tree, he sought her out. The gift was no thicker than a folded piece of paper—because it _was_ a folded piece of paper—and he didn't want it to get lost. She was sitting alone on Formans' organ bench, and he tapped her shoulder.

She looked up at him. "What do you want?"

"Here." He handed her the gift.

"'To Jackie,'" she said, reading the attached tag, "'from your Secret Santa.' _You're_ my Secret Santa?"

"Yup. Ain't fate a bitch?"

"What is it?" she said. "A bunch of itching powder?"

"I'm not Casey Kelso."

She didn't respond but opened the newspaper wrapping. The folded-up note slipped onto her lap. She read it to herself silently; then she said, "My present 'isn't ready yet'? Is this some scheme to trap me in your grubby apartment and humiliate me somehow?"

"Man, you really don't trust me."

"Why should I?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Prom night. Zen. Jail. The day after you totaled Kelso's van. The Formans' Veteran's Day barbecue..."

She huffed a breath. "But those were all before we ... _you know._ You hate me again."

"Nope. Ain't your fault you didn't feel anything, man. A body feels what it feels, right? Mine felt crap, too. Doesn't mean we gotta be crap to each other."

She gazed down at her lap, at the note, and he squatted to get in her eye-line. "So," he said, and she lifted her head slightly, "we got a meeting at my place—January 5th, Friday. After school?"

She smiled, weakly but genuinely. "Sure."

* * *

A light knock on the front door spurred Hyde into action. He thrust his shades onto his face and took a deep, steadying breath. The last two weeks had been a long, tough goodbye, but it was for a good cause. He opened the front door and invited Jackie inside Bud's apartment. She glanced around and seemed unimpressed.

"We're lucky we have furniture," Hyde said. "Bud likes to toss dice."

"Oh." Jackie combed fingers through her curled hair. She appeared nervous, but he ignored all impulses to take her hand. The irony was sickening. Finally, he wanted to touch her, and she wasn't interested. "My uncle has a gambling problem, too," she said, "which is why Daddy cut him out of the family. So where's my present?"

Hyde clenched his jaw. She definitely didn't like being here—either in Bud's apartment or with him—but he directed her toward his bedroom. He'd tied a Christmas ribbon onto the doorknob, and she said, "You got me a door?"

"No."

He let her into his room. A ball of cream-colored fur was lying on top of his bed, and he roused it with a pet. Cat perked up his head and yawned.

"Oh, my God," Jackie shriek-whispered, "she's so cute!"

"He," Hyde said and picked Cat up. He cuddled the kitten in his arms, as he'd been doing since the beginning, and scratched the kitten's cheeks. A deep purr kicked up in Cat's throat and belly.

Jackie planted a hand over her heart. "Aww!

"His name is Cat." He passed the kitten into Jackie's waiting arms, and she cuddled him against her chest. Cat's purring didn't stop.

"Is this—" tears fogged over her eyes, "is this your present for me?"

"Yup. He's almost three-months-old. He's vaccinated, deflead, dewormed. He'll have to be neutered, but keep the damn thing inside, would ya? And away from Kelso. Don't want Cat to kick the bucket early."

"This li'l boy's never going outside," Jackie said, "or near stupid Michael." She held the kitten in front of her face, as if to get a better look at him. Then she brought Cat back to her chest for more cuddling. "Oh, Steven—I love him!"

Hyde risked petting Cat while the kitten was in Jackie's arms. "I've got one caveat, though."

Her bright grin faltered. "What?"

"I get visitation rights."

"You can come over whenever you want."

"Thanks," he said and nuzzled his lips in Cat's fur. The bruise of Jackie's kiss had finally faded.

"You're so cute with him, Steven," she said, and Hyde withdrew from both Cat and her. Cat's purring had grown louder, and she stroked his ears and back. "I always knew, deep down, you had a gentle soul."

Hyde rubbed the nape of his neck and glanced down at his boots. He had nothing to say to that.

"He needs a better name, though," she said. "'Cat' sucks."

He chuckled. "Whatever. You should hear what Fez calls him."

"Eww!" She maneuvered the kitten to cradle him like a baby. Cat was used to that from Hyde, so he didn't struggle. "Look at his face, those orange stripes around his eyes. He's got sunglasses on—"

"Don't say it."

"—just like you!" She giggled. "And—oh! I know what his name is."

"What?"

She didn't answer at first. She brushed her lips against Hyde's sideburn, like she had on Prom night. The kitten was purring between their chests, and she finally said, "'Shade'. I'm gonna call him that."

"Shade," Hyde repeated. The name felt good on his tongue, just like Jackie's kiss on Veteran's Day— just like the kitten purring between them. He was open enough to let it all in, but it overwhelmed him to silence.

"Oh, you hate it," she said and pulled away.

"No, man. No." He scratched beneath Shade's chin, and she stepped closer to him again. "I dig it."

* * *

* * *

[Complete Tree Brush Pack](http://horhew.deviantart.com/art/Complete-Tree-Brush-Pack-22839764)


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